been waiting my whole life to tell the truth. I really thought
 
 you’d be happy for me. For us. Maybe you’re too young. Too
 
 inexperienced.” Steph isn’t trying to be mean, she’s just
 
 wandering through this muck of a fight that we’re suddenly
 
 having the same way I am.
 
 I know that, but I still go on the defensive. “It doesn’t
 
 have anything to do with being young. When it comes to
 
 experience, I have far more of that than you do. It’s just –
 
 some of those experiences hit me hard. I don’t mean to dump
 
 that on you and – I’m not ready to talk about them either. I
 
 think I’d better just go home and try to calm down.”
 
 I don’t give Steph a chance to respond because I just
 
 need to get out of there before I say or do anything more
 
 damaging. I can see how much everything I’d said already cuts
 
 through her like a knife and I need to stop. This is all my own
 
 shit coming out. I should have had my guard up and now I’m
 
 scared because it wasn’t there when I needed it. I’m confused
 
 and I’m sorry, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m so
 
 terribly afraid of being the one hurt. Again. Of being the one
 
 dumped. Again. Of being the one broken. Again. Of being the
 
 one who gets left with hardly any explanation at all.
 
 I realize that I still have my purse nearby. My shoes are
 
 on. I had never even set anything down. I turn and run for the
 
 door because I just need to get out of here before I say or do
 
 anything more damaging. I have no idea if this can be
 
 salvaged. I don’t know what will happen to us. I don’t even
 
 know if I’m ready for this. I thought I was, but now? It’s like
 
 there’s a huge bump in the road, but the bump is actually a
 
 sinkhole and I’m falling into it and there might not be a road
 
 on the other side to get back onto.